


Sticky Note Wars

by Sebastian_txt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Office, Bottom Tony Stark, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Office Sex, PWP, Smut, Top Steve Rogers, a little plot, something in between, well not quite enemies and not quite lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebastian_txt/pseuds/Sebastian_txt
Summary: Steve and Tony have been messing with one another for quite a long time before tensions finally snap.





	Sticky Note Wars

**Author's Note:**

> uh im always worried i'll use the wrong form of there or your or something

After his brief lunch break, Steve sits down at his, shockingly pristine, desk. He sighs before reaching into his drawer to retrieve a pen but only finds the thick, haphazard writing on the colorful sticky note:

‘Good luck finding your pens, doll’

Steve groans, “all of them?” he whispers to himself, looking around his desk and in all his pockets. It’s futile, of course. That man is thorough, as he always is.

“Stark, I swear to god I need those! C’mon, man.” Steve says, walking across the room and marching into Tony’s office.

“Hey, darling. I take it you got my note?” The man says, swiveling around to face him like a villain in a movie,

“For someone who talks so much about efficiency in the office you sure do spend a lot of time making sure I don't do my work,” Steve says, plucking four pens out of Tony’s silver bucket on his cluttered desk. 

“Tut-tut, those aren’t yours Rogers,” Tony says, standing up and holding out a rubber-banded group of pens and a few mechanical pencils, “I’ve been taking one off your desk everytime you leave for months now but you just hadn’t noticed. A shame, really. But oh so fun to watch you get a new one out every time you had to make a copy,” He explains with a shrug. Steve snatches the large bundle he estimates to hold about thirty pens.

“Fuck you,” He mutters, taking the half drank cup of coffee off Tony’s desk and walking out.

Steve has to ignore the light-hearted, “your pleasure, princess” that comes from behind the closing door.

When Tony comes in the next morning, his desk is cleared, his stuff organized in neat patterns in drawers and a new set of pens on his desk. The plain yellow sticky note beside it reads ‘since you’re in such short supply, apparently.’

It isn’t exactly the kind of prank they would pull on one another, but Steve knows Stark would never be able to find stuff if they weren’t exactly where he put them, even if it did look systemless. Steve was one hundred and twelve percent correct as Tony struggles to find even the simplest of supplies. 

He only messes with the drawers for a moment before leaving the room. Tony finds Steve just where he suspects, sitting on his desk with a smug look, postponing work until after the inevitable confrontation.

“Steve! Where on God's good earth did you put my… all my stuff?” His voice is accompanied by a series of vague hand gestures.

“I organized it, your majesty,” Steve said, the twinkle in his bright blue eyes somehow endearing.

“Come to my office and show me where everything is,” Tony says, snatching the half eaten muffin next to Steve, keeping eye contact as he gets payback for his stolen coffee yesterday.

“Don’t I get a ‘thank you’?” Steve says, snarkily. Tony just holds up his middle finger in response. He laughs, hopping off the desk to follow the other man to his small, enclosed, office.

It only takes about five minutes to show him where everything is, especially since it’s in good, uniform, order. When he finishes, however, Steve chuckles, fishing his ‘prize’ from his pocket.

“Oh, and I found this fun trinket when I was cleaning up, you plan on using this in here because I’m pretty sure it’s-”

“Shut up,” Tony says, yanking the small bottle of pink lube from his coworker.

“I could see you were nervous about this the whole time, who’s it for?” Steve says, leaning, not so casually, against the desk, a smirk playing on his face.

“No one, just uh… left it here,” Steve moves a bit closer, lifting the man's chin so he meets his gaze.

“Awe, you can tell me. What, did I embarrass the great Tony Sta-” He is cut off by the aforementioned mans soft, but desperate, kiss. He takes a second to realize what's happening but easily relaxes into it in a matter of seconds, pulling away to lock the door before shoving Tony back against the desk.

“Saving it for you, sweetheart,” Tony says, but he’s breathless and all his normal sarcastic aggression has seeped out of his voice. Steves sweater is on the floor and his tie is loose, Stark is pulling at his own decorative tie as he is pushed down against the desk, knocking off almost all of the previously organized nicknacks, supplies, and work.

“Wanted this for so long, Jesus,” Steve mutters against him, pulling his own shirt off, reaching for Tony’s tie, and the buttons on his pristine shirt.

“Me too, fuck,” He whispers his response as the blond man kisses down his neck and chest, leaving aggressive marks every few inches. 

He stops just above the hem of his pants, looking up with sudden clarity, “You sure-”

“What a gentleman,” Tony mutters, sarcastically, “Yes, of course, god.” Steve’s eyes shine as he bites his lip, undoing Tony’s belt and pulling off his pants, stifling a laughter at his bright pink boxers with small cartoon characters.

Seeing the man before him reminds him of the restraint of his own formal work clothing. He begins undoing his belt as he takes Tony in his mouth. He moves his head slowly, listening to Tony’s soft curses. He looks up at him and begins shimmying out of his own pants and underwear, stroking himself, lightly. 

“Fuck me,” Tony says, his voice strained as he attempts to get a look at Steve’s cock. The blond man moans slightly at the idea, the vibrations driving Stark crazy as he pulls Steve's head off of him, looking at him like this is different, new, and insanely pleasing to the brunette.

Steve stands, grabbing the lube that started it all. Before however, he can put it on his fingers, Tony holds his hand out, a deep blush spreading across his face.

“I uh, I don’t need stretching at all uh… There’s a condom uhm in my uh I'm my wallet,” Steve smiles, twice in one day he's embarrassed the most prideful man he knows, and it isn’t even ten o’clock. He grabs the wallet out of his partners discarded pants and takes the condom and twenty dollars, just to keep with the trend of petty theft the two of them have going. 

“Steve you’re not a prostitute,” The blue-eyed man simply laughs and throws the bill on top of his pants. 

“No but you owe me a muffin and some supplies,” Tony rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight. Actually squirming to express what he wants from the man.

Steve rolls the rose-colored condom on his, more than half hard, cock, sensing a theme in the other man's sexual purchases. He slowly moves closer to the other man's legs and slides in.

“Fuck,” Stark mutters, pushing against him to speed along the process, wanting more before it’s even funny had a chance to start.

“Patience, Tony,” Steve mutters but begins to move the second he bottoms out. He fucks into him faster and more sporadically, his quiet grunts and moans seeming to echo in the small space. Partnered, of course, by Tony’s stream of Steve's name, both first and last, and obscene language. The dark haired man reaches in front of himself to grab his own cock, thrusting into it and then back against his partner.

“Steve fuck I’m almost there,” He mutters, his hand moving sloppily as he stills and simply grinds against his partner, who moves faster and grips his thighs harder in response, definitely leaving bruises on the sensitive area. 

He finishes over his chest, luckily not spilling onto the dark-colored desk. Steve finishes a moment later, both men are out of breath and sweaty. 

He pulls out and throws the used rubber in the trash, grabbing some tissues to help Stark clean off his pale chest.

“Thanks, hon,” He putters, sitting up to wipe himself off, his legs, shockingly, weak.

Steve pulls on his boxers and pants, much to Tony’s disappointment. He buttons and tucks in his shirt and is putting on his tie and buckling his belt before Tony has even managed to get to his shaky feet.

He begins dressing as Steve hands him his tie and shoes from across the room where they had been thrown.

“I just cleaned your desk, couldn’t we have done this last night?” Steve says, a rye smile on his soft face. Tony chuckles, good-naturedly.

“Unfortunately, I can’t turn back time. But, how about I make it up to you over dinner tonight?” He says, taking a step forward to close the gap between him and the taller man.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow my writing blog at sebastian-txt on tumblr


End file.
